For the Love of Flight
by Emerald Dragon Rider
Summary: When Clark witnesses something that could be a Wall-Of-Weird contender, he turns to his friends and own experience to help him solve the mystery while Chloe gets strange e-mails. Can our favorite smalltown hero do it again? COMPLETED!
1. Introduction

**For the Love of Flight**

**Introduction**

Clark and Lana were at the Talon after closing, working on their homework together. Clark was helping Lana with her math assignment for that night.

"…and number 12? This assignment is terrible, I mean, we only learned how to do it today!" Lana said, exasperated.

'That's OK, sometimes even I don't—" Clark said, stopping suddenly and listening carefully. His super-human hearing had kicked in and he sensed something was wrong. As if it were in his head, he heard the squeal of tires on pavement and a woman's scream.

"Clark? What is it, what's wrong?" Lana asked, clearly not able to hear the frightened person herself, but seeing the sudden concern on her friend's face.

"Lana, I'm sorry, I have to go!" Clark said hastily, getting up to leave.

"Clark, what's going on?" Lana now demanded, confused by his sudden change in composure.

"I'll explain later," Clark said, dashing out the door, leaving the girl of his dreams behind. Lana followed, hoping to get an explanation right away for his rushed exit that seemed to have no excuse. When she reached the front of the small café and ran outside only a few seconds later, no one was there. Clark was gone.

"Clark?" Lana called, looking around. He tended to do this so often, she should be used to it by now, she thought to herself. Sighing, she went back inside the little coffeehouse to see that Clark had forgotten his books—a perfect excuse to approach him tomorrow at school to make him explain what had happened.

* * *

Meanwhile, Clark raced through the small town, using his super-speed and hearing to detect the origin of the sound. As he grew closer, he realized he was nearing the Smallville Dam, an all too likely place for an accident. He stopped, and looked around in the darkness, considering whether to use his x-ray vision to identify where the panicky driver and car was. As he was attempting to locate the vehicle, he heard a crash that made his heart jump, knowing exactly what it was without seeing the commotion. He looked over at the edge of the dam to see a convertible Mustang taking flight. He knew there was nothing he could do now, but super-speed towards the car, hoping to be able to reach it before it dropped to the other side of the dam. 

When he arrived on the pavement grazed in long black streaks, Clark realized he was too late. He could only stand there, helpless—something someone like Clark Kent wasn't used to, and blaming himself for the deaths of the two people he was about to witness.

As he watched, feeling responsible and wondering what else there was he could do, he heard something: the sound of ripping fabric—normal, for a car crash, he thought, but was still unprepared for what happened next. The teen wouldn't have had to use his x-ray vision in the dark to see a person, or what he assumed was a person, open a great pair of feathered wings, and lift themselves out of the death-trap and, just as quickly, extend three, thick, long blades from between the fingers of their fist and use them to slash through the seatbelt of the driver. Concealing the talons just as swiftly as they were revealed, the winged-wonder grabbed the panicky woman in arms that could oppose Clark's, and pull her to safety into the air.

The two hung in the sky, the wings making massive strokes in the air to stay upright with the added weight of another body, Clark still stunned by the sight he barely believed he was witnessing.

Boy, will Chloe _love_ to hear about this, Clark thought. As he did so, he vaguely saw the face of a young woman, her long hair streaming down between the wings, where he half expected to see the head of gigantic bird. Seeing him there, her eyes grew wide with fear, knowing that he knew her astonishing secret, but only Clark could hear her silent gasp. Before he got a distinct look, she turned away quickly, and flew away into the night with her companion, as their forgotten car fell to the ground below with a fiery crash.


	2. Caught in the Act

**Chapter 1  
****Caught in the Act**

"Are you sure she didn't see you use your powers, son?" Jonathon Kent asked his son the next morning over breakfast.

"Yes dad, she only saw me once I had 'ran' to the edge of the bridge; she didn't even notice I was there before then," Clark assured his overprotective father. "When she did see me though, she looked scared—almost as if the wings were something I wasn't supposed to find out about." He wondered how someone could conceal something so large from others, then thinking of his own secret.

"Well, you of all people should know about hiding secrets from people," Martha Kent chimed in, hoping to reassure her son. "Didn't you get a little nervous when Pete first found out about your secret?"

"A little, but only because he didn't understand. He looked at me differently, like I was a freak or something," Clark replied sadly, looking up at his mother through pained eyes.

"Clark," Jonathon said, placing a comforting hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing slightly, causing Clark to turn his head and look into his father's eyes. "Pete just didn't understand, like you said. Over time, he has come to appreciate your gift, just like we do."

"I know. It's just that if anyone exposed my secret, I would be really upset—then everyone would treat me differently, and I'd probably end up in Belle Reeve under microscopes while surrounded by green kryptonite," Clark said, revealing his fears to his concerned parents.

"Well, the only people who know are Pete, your mother, and I, and you know we'd never do that to you," Jonathon said, trying to comfort Clark.

"Yeah…I guess I'll tell Chloe not to write anything about it before I have more information. I'll just see if I can find out who it was," Clark replied. "I've got to get ready for school," he said, putting his dishes in the sink before super-speeding up the stairs in his small farm-house.

* * *

Two minutes later, Clark had entered Smallville High's hallways, just in time for his first class. Noticing no-one was around, and his usual habit of being late, he super-sped to his classroom, stopping just in time to walk in normally as the bell rang.

"Right in the nick of time, Mr. Kent, good job," Mr. Long said in an annoyed tone as Clark took his seat next to Pete, his best friend since before he could remember. "Let's get started, shall we? Turn to page 117 please…" Clark leaned over and whispered to Pete,

"I have to tell you something important later, meet me at the Torch Office during second."

"Is it Wall-Of-Weird material, or about a certain raven-haired coffeehouse owner I know of?" Pete said, teasing his friend.

"Just be there, I'll explain later," Clark said, ignoring the comment and quickly righting himself so that the teacher wouldn't notice him and Pete talking during class.

* * *

"So they just _flew away_ before they crashed?" Chloe said sarcastically after listening to Clark's story along with Pete, lounging in the Torch Office between classes. Chloe was Clark's best friend who ran the school newspaper, the Torch, and didn't quite know if she wanted to be just a friend, or perhaps a girlfriend, but knew she couldn't just be either without knowing what dark secrets Clark constantly kept hidden.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy Chloe, but I saw it with my own eyes!" Clark protested, typing more information into the computer. He, Chloe, and Pete were doing research on the license plate number Clark had recovered from the totaled car, hoping to find an owner.

"Well, we both know that people are rarely who they appear to be," Chloe said, looking at him with raised eyebrows, indicating that she meant him. When Clark hesitated to respond, Chloe continued her interrogation. "Besides, I still don't understand _why_ you were at the dam, Clark. We all know you come running at the first sign of trouble, but you were at the Talon, halfway across town." At this, Clark looked up for a second, caught by surprise and instantly tried to come up with a relevant excuse. After all, "I heard someone who needed help from miles away, and super-sped there in an effort to physically hold back the car before it went over the side of the dam," just wouldn't blow over well.

Just then, Pete finally shoved his way into the conversation. He had decided long ago that he would help in protecting Clark's secret, which he had discovered by accident, and would do what it took to keep Clark's secret from anyone that Clark wasn't ready to tell.

"Uh, c'mon Clark, man, we gotta get to class anyway," Pete said swiftly, even though they still had 10 minutes until the first bell rang. As Chloe looked at him with confusion and interest written on her face, Pete had his hand on Clark's shoulder and was steering him out of the room.

"Thanks Pete, I didn't know how to come back on that one for a second. Even my speed couldn't have helped me in there," Clark thanked his friend as soon as they were out of Chloe's hearing range.

"No problem man, I got your back," Pete said, clapping the man on steel on his back. "So, were you serious in there? Did you really see a chick with wings?" he asked, grinning at his inadvertent pun as they walked down the hallway.

"Yeah, but she seemed scared when I saw her, as if her wings were something she kept secret, like me," Clark replied with concern evident in his voice.

"Well, did she look familiar? Maybe she's been living among us normally and we never even suspected anything," Pete said, thoughtfully, looking at Clark suddenly realizing what he had said.

"I never got a clear look at her face, it was too dark…" Clark said, appearing to not be hindered by the unintentional comment.

"Couldn't you have done the eye-thing?" Pete asked, referring to Clark's x-ray vision.

"It kinda felt wrong to, you know? Like she didn't want me to be able to recognize her."

"…so we're doin' all this research for nothing?" Pete asked.

"No, I want to be able to recognize her, just not exploit her…oh god, I forgot to tell Chloe not to print anything about it! I've got to go tell her!"

"Clark, the 5 minute bell rang about 4 minutes ago, we need to go to class," Pete said.

For the rest of the day, Clark tried to find Chloe between his classes, but she wasn't in the Torch when he had found the time to look. He couldn't find her anywhere. What Clark didn't know was that she was hiding in an inconspicuous crevice in the hallway, trying to identify any suspicious behavior that would lead her to believe that one of the students was concealing a pair of gigantic wings and six sharp talons. 

Clark gave up looking for Chloe late that day. He could call her, and tell her not to print the article, but he realized that would result in a lot of question—most that he would rather avoid, if possible. He knew that she didn't know enough information to cause whoever he saw to be abducted and held captive in Cadmus Labs under microscopes and having horrible tests done on her.

* * *

The next day, Clark woke early and went out to the barn to do his chores before school. He knew that he could just do them with his super-speed and be done in a matter of minutes, but he was enjoying the brisk morning air and bright blue Kansas morning sky before he had to be locked up in a school for the majority of the day. He put the pitchfork that he was using to bail hay down for a moment, and stared up at the sky, thoughts of being able to soar through the clouds, unseen and unheard by anyone filled his mind; just him and unlimited opportunities. While he enjoyed the morning sun's rays, pondering this, he noticed something unusual: he couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet. Clark looked down to see that he was floating, about a foot above his not-so-normal height of 6 foot 4 inches.

"Clark!" Clark suddenly looked up upon hearing the sound of Lana's voice from around the corner of the barn. Just as soon as the strange floating had begun, he dropped to the ground—tall teenage aliens were not meant to be dropped without a warning. Lana came around from the other side of the barn to find Clark in a heap on the ground near the door of the barn.

"Clark! Are you OK?" she asked, running over and helping him up.

"Yeah, Lana, I'm fine. Just…tripped, that's all," Clark said, hoping she hadn't seen him when he was floating—it would make his regular covering up of his secret seem like child's play.

"You sure you're alright? You looked a little…well, dazed," she said, looking at him through concerned eyes. Little did she know that Clark's invulnerability, part of his well-kept secret, kept him from hurting himself except when he was around Kryptonite—the real name for the meteor rocks that had fallen with Clark during the meteor shower 14 years earlier.

"I guess it's the sun, really bright this morning," he said, knowing it was a poor excuse. "So, was there anything you needed? It's pretty early."

"Um, yeah, there was actually. The other night at the Talon, you left so fast you forgot your English paper…" Lana said, handing it to him. So that's where it went, thought Clark, recalling his frantic search for the paper in his locker during the small amount of time he had allotted himself after telling his teacher he needed to use the bathroom.

"What was so important that the responsible Clark Kent would leave his five-page-paper that was due the next day, at a coffeehouse?"

There was a short pause before Clark's next pathetic explanation was aroused: "I, uh, remembered that I forgot to do a few chores around the farm. My dad has to do twice as much work when that happens…" Strike two for lame excuses, Kent, Clark thought. Lana, knowing that something important had come up upon recognizing Clark's annoying habit of complicating everything, suddenly turned from an interrogating friend, to a concerned one.

"Is everything alright?" Lana asked, knowing that his reply was not the real reason for his departure. "You know, you can always tell me anything, Clark…"

These were the conversations when Clark wanted to just tell Lana everything, and therefore the conversations he tried to avoid, knowing he could never tell her because of the danger involved with knowing a secret so large. Unfortunately, lately this was where their conversations ended up—this, or either Lana's getting fed-up with Clark's never telling her his obvious kept secret.

"Yeah…everything's fine," Clark said. He leaned in closer to her, and she reached up. Right then, they shared the kiss that Clark had been yearning for for so long. He wished it could have lasted forever. They held each other close, neither one wanting to let go. As they stood there, Lana realized that something felt odd, despite this perfect moment. She pulled away from their passionate kiss, only to realize they were floating almost a foot in the air, slowly turning in a slow circle as they kissed. Clark, noticing that Lana had pulled away, opened his eyes to see Lana's own wide, confused eyes.

"Clark, do you know why we're _floating?_" Lana asked him, looking into his eyes, obviously searching for an honest answer, knowing that he knew it. As she spoke, they slowly drifted back to the ground, Clark mentally thanking an unseen power for being able to control it and not falling back to the ground as he had before.

"Uh, yeah, but you'd never believe me," Clark said, thinking how much he wanted to tell her the truth.

"I think I deserve an explanation as to how we just proved medical geniuses wrong in defying gravity," Lana said, desperate to know what Clark continually held back from her every time they talked.

"I don't have time to talk about it right now, but if you come back tonight, I'll explain then," Clark told her. "Do you need a ride to school?"

"No thanks, I brought my car. See you there?" she asked, holding back the questions that burned inside her.

"Sure. Talk to you tonight," he said, knowing he couldn't back out of it this time. With that, Lana walked away, content in knowing she would soon know what it was that Clark was always so secretive about, and hoping it wasn't a mistake.


	3. Andy

**Chapter 2  
****Andy**

Clark walked into school, on the verge of being late once again. He ran to his first class, hoping the bell wouldn't ring before he got there. Even though his bought of tardiness was beginning to upset Principal Reynolds, his mind was elsewhere: how was he supposed to tell Lana tonight that he was an alien? He hadn't even told his parents yet about what had happened that morning—probably because he was mostly embarrassed about talking about it with his parents, even though they were the only people he consoled in when it came to his powers—besides Pete, that is.

He slipped into the door, too tall to be considered inconspicuous, and was noticed immediately as the entire class turned in their seats to see who had just entered.

"Another tardy, Mr. Kent, and it's a detention for you," Mr. Long threatened his student. "Please, take a seat, and do not disrupt the class again."

"Yes sir," Clark said dutifully, handing his teacher his late English paper, which only resulting in getting him a stern look that, if Mr. Long had Clark's powers, would have burnt a hole through his skull.

* * *

Later that day, Clark was walking through the hallways, planning on visiting Lex, the billionaire son of Lionel Luthor—the one everyone knew as evil but never dared to mention it out loud. Clark knew he'd missed the bus—the driver hardly waited for him anymore; but he didn't mind. He could get anywhere around the small town in less than 10 seconds using his speed anyway; much faster than any vehicle could take him—even one of Lex's expensive Porsches or Ferraris, Clark thought as he smiled to himself.

As he exited the double doors to the main hallway of Smallville High, he switched to super-speed and within 5 seconds was at the gates of Lex's mansion. The security guards, recognizing the visitor as Lex's friend; a frequent visitor, immediately opened the gates and let the young man in.

"Hi Clark, what's up? You look distracted," Lex greeted his friend, as he saw Clark rounding the corner into his gigantic study.

"Well, I need some advice," Clark admitted, hoping his best friend could help out his predicament.

"Shoot," Lex said, racking up the balls for a game of pool; his favorite pastime.

"Well, this morning I told this really amazing person that I'd open up to them tonight, and I'm not really sure how to go about it," Clark said, trying not to reveal too much about himself, but still wanting a little help.

"Well, for conversation's sake, let's just call the person 'Lana,'" Lex said, looking up from his cue stick and grinning at Clark. He'd known Clark had had a huge crush on Lana Lang ever since Lex had met him after Clark had saved him from drowning after driving his Porsche off of the Loeb Bridge—much the same situation that Clark had witnessed earlier that week. Lex continued to have the suspicions that he had hit Clark going 60 miles an hour, which in reality is what he had done, but Clark hoped Lex believed his story of Clark jumping in after him to save his soon-to-be friend. Still, he avoiding too much prying, and continued, "Besides Clark, you know I've never been great with people of the opposite sex—I tend to drive them away eventually some way or another."

"I know, I just don't know what to do," Clark said, looking down at the floor, embarrassed by his situation.

"I think you should tell her. All she's ever wanted of you was to be honest with her, right? Well here's your chance to give her what she wants—it could the beginning of a more than 'just-friends' relationship," Lex teased his friend, knowing all of his usual excuses.

"That's all I've ever wanted with Lana—and yet last time that happened, I broke her heart when I left for Metropolis…"

"You aren't planning on going 'bad-boy' on us again, are you?" Lex asked, shooting another of the pool balls into a pocket.

"No, I'll never do anything like that again, I've made sure of that," Clark said, knowing how much grief he had caused everyone he loved. Upon hearing the comment, Lex became momentarily curious, but quickly suppressed his vexed questions; oblivious to the fact that it was a simply piece of red meteor-rock, or kryptonite, that made his best friend reveal his inner evil. Instead, he simply remarked,

"It looks like you have no way around it this time, Clark."

Clark flashed a still-troubled smile to his friend, knowing he couldn't tell Lana his secret without consequences eventually coming to haunt her, before turning to leave.

"Oh, and Clark?" Lex added, resulting in Clark swiveling around. "Good luck!" receiving a regular Kent-charm smile in return before watching his friend depart.

* * *

That night, Clark paced the floor of his loft—his "fortress of solitude" as his father liked to call it, and attempted to figure out what to tell Lana when she came over.

"Hi Lana, I'd just like to tell you that I'm an alien…no, that'd never work…" Clark said to himself. Earlier he had told his parents what he was going to do that night with Lana, and although neither of them fully agreed with his decision, they supported him. They both knew it was hard for Clark to conceal his secret from everyone every day of his life, and that it kept him from leading a normal life. Clark was trying out one of his better beginnings of the dreaded conversation, when he heard footsteps at the bottom of the stairs leading to his loft. Immediately, he stopped talking, and walked over to the railing, knowing exactly who it was.

"Hi Lana," Clark said in a voice that he hoped didn't sound as nervous as he felt.

"Hi Clark, your parents told me you were out here," she said.

"Yeah, I have to tell you something, and I'm not sure how you're going to like it…" he began, quickly deciding on a beginning to his life that anyone could read as if it were a mystery and depressing novel.

"Clark, it's OK," Lana said. Clark gazed up at her with surprised eyes. "You don't have to tell me anything. You warned me that there were things about you that I wouldn't understand, and I don't want to force you to tell me until you're ready." Clark was taken aback by this, and just stood there, stunned.

"Lana, if I could tell you, I would. It's just too dangerous," he said, happy that he wouldn't have to tell her after all. True, it was what he wanted to tell her, but it was too risky. His parents and Pete had all experienced that the hard way, becoming victims of maniacs trying to learn what it was that Clark Kent kept hidden from the rest of the world.

"I know. That's why I've decided to let the time come by itself. I know you'll tell me when the time is right," she continued. Clark himself knew that he would tell her someday, but only when it became necessary—and not before then.

* * *

The next morning, Clark walked downstairs and was greeted by the expectant faces of his parents.

"So, how did it go last night?" Martha asked, trying not to pry but concerned for her son's wellbeing.

"I didn't tell her, if that's what you're wondering," Clark said, not sure if he was pleased or upset by the concept. He grabbed a piece of bread and began to toast it with his heat vision.

"Are you OK, Clark?" Jonathan asked, also concerned at the look on his son's face.

"Yeah, just thinking," Clark replied, eating his toast dry. "I'm gonna go do my chores before school."

"OK, just don't be late!" Martha said, patting him on the back as he left the house. He fed the cattle, noticing that his mom had already fed the chickens. Looking at his watch, and realizing he was behind schedule, he bailed the hay with his super-speed. As he was walking back to the house to grab his backpack, he watched a hawk flying in the clear blue sky. There was something unusual about that way it was flying—using big strokes of its wings, when a hawk was supposed to effortlessly glide on the air. Clark tried to look closer, but the strange bird flew too far off, heading in the direction of the school. He would normally have followed it, his inner journalist brought out in him by Chloe, but he knew he was going to be late, and let it go. Snatching his backpack from the counter, he super-sped off to school; never being a very punctual person.

* * *

The girl was in an ocean of emotions at that moment—she loved flying, but she knew she was only flying to school because her mother had wrecked their only car, and a nice one at that—an arrest-me-red 2003 Mustang Convertible that she had been hoping to learn to drive in. She knew it wasn't her mother's fault she had crashed: the road had been slick from the rain the night before, and the brakes had been a little faulty lately. The girl was just glad that she had been in the car with her mother at the time to save the only family she had—but she knew that that boy had seen her wings. She didn't know where he had come from, but she just hoped he hadn't seen her distinctly enough to be able to recognize her.

She knew that chances were, he went to the same high school—it was the only one in town, and she both dreaded and looked forward to her first day. Her mother had home-schooled her up to now; concerned about her daughter's social life, had agreed to let her go to a public school. She opened her wings to their full breadth and slowed herself, landing in a nearby clearing amongst a group of pine trees, and slipped on her baggiest sweatshirt, hoping it was large enough to inconspicuously conceal her enormous pair of auburn wings. She carried her books under one greatly muscled arm, doing whatever she could to keep any weight off of her tightly folded wings. Slipping on her empty backpack over both shoulders as an extra layer, she took a deep breath, and confidently walked into the school.

The amount of kids in the hallway along was overwhelming, and she carefully scooted through the teeming mass of students to the wall, and slipped into the first open door as the bell rang through the hallways.

"Uh, hi, can I help you?" came a friendly voice from behind her. Spinning around, not expecting another to be in the room, she took in her surroundings. She was in a small office, it looked like, and one wall was entirely covered in jumbled newspaper clippings and pictures. She looked at the girl who was sitting at a computer, who had a head of short blond hair and friendly looking green eyes.

"Yeah, I'm new here. I was wondering if someone could show me around a bit," she said, trying to sound self-assured, though she knew she was only fooling herself. What had she been thinking? They'd probably think she was odd even without knowing about her wings.

"Sure, that's usually Clark's job, but he's got class right now, so I'd be happy to. If you can hold on one second, I just need to finish this," she said, starting to type something quickly. While she waited, the girl gazed about the room more closely, when she saw something that made her heart skip a beat—on the cluttered wall, there was an article that looked more recent than the others, only concluding this because it wasn't as faded as the others, and it covered up parts of the other clippings.

**Winged Wonder: Smallville's Newest Hero?**

As she tried to hide her surprise, she calmed herself, and quickly asked the blond girl who wrote it.

"You like it? That's one of my better ones, got the information from Clark. He said he saw a winged woman save another from falling to her death in a car that fell off of the Smallville Dam. Happened just a few days ago, but we seem to be the only observant ones around here," the perky girl replied, clearly very proud of herself. The new girl suppressed a quick breath of bewilderment, and continued on, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Is that in the paper?"

"The school's newspaper actually, _The Torch._ I'm the president of it; Chloe Sullivan," she said, extending a hand.

"I'm Andy….Andy Falcon," she said, forcing herself to shake Chloe's hand.

"Well Andy, let's find your next class. You'll be late, but I'm sure Mr. Reynolds won't mind, seeing as how you're a new student and all," Chloe said, taking the schedule from Andy's hand. "Looks like you're in the same class as Clark—English with Mr. Long. He's not as mean as he appears to be," Chloe said, trying to be a good host. She brushed past Andy on her way to the door, at which Andy instinctively recoiled—afraid of even accidental contact with anyone.

"You OK?" Chloe asked, implying Andy's sudden and unexpected reaction.

"I'm fine, let's just get to class," Andy said quickly, walking out that door behind her new acquaintance.

* * *

Clark heard the door open before anyone else, and turned his head in the direction to see who was coming in late—probably another of the students who regularly was tardy but never seemed to have a relevant excuse. He was surprised when he saw Chloe walk in, who didn't have a class first period, but then saw another girl walk in after her. The girl looked down at the floor, her features covered under a wall of long brown hair cascading down her front and over her backpack.

"Uh, Mr. Long? This is Andy Falcon; she's new here, and asked me to show her to her first class…" Chloe said, getting the teacher's attention.

"Why yes, and late already. That can become a bad habit Ms. Falcon," Mr. Long pestered his student immediately, attempting to preserve his stern-teacher image throughout the school. Andy blushed at the comment, and silently went to take a seat. Clark noticed right away that she hunched when she walked, as if her backpack weighed her down, but which appeared to be empty as she was holding her books under one arm. She took the straps off her shoulders, and instantly slipped into her seat and slouched down low into the seat, looking around to see if she could recognize Clark, the one who had exploited her secret.


	4. Unraveling the Mystery

**Chapter 3  
****Unraveling the Mystery**

After class, Clark hastily got up and walked up to Andy, hoping to introduce himself and perhaps be her guide for showing her around the school—he knew Chloe was too busy with the Torch and her classes to do both.

"Hi, I'm Clark Kent. I heard you needed someone to show you around for today. Are you new to Smallville?" he asked, trying to be as friendly as possible to the new student, trying to fulfill his usual job of being the host and escort. Andy looked up at him, and the fear showed in her eyes as she knew this was Clark. "Hey, it's OK. I'm not as intimidating as I look."

"Um, I have to go now," Andy said, slipping past him and leaving the room as fast as she could.

"That was weird," Clark said to himself, not used to the unsettling reaction he got from Andy. He walked into the hallway, hoping to find Andy and assure her that there was nothing about him to be afraid of; although, he thought, if she knew my secret, she would have. He pushed through the growing crowd of students in the hallway, and had the advantage of height, being taller than the average teenager his age. He saw her, running for the doors, and continued his battle to reach the newest student, still observing the way she walked—as if she had something to hide. Hunching over like he had seen her do before, she veered away from anyone who came near her, and was desperately trying to leave the building to get away from the overwhelming crowd, still clutching her books to her like it was the only thing she had left in the world. She finally reached the double doors and ran down the steps, doubling back to the side of the building and leaving Clark's view, aware that he was following her. Clark ran out after her, only to find that she was gone.

Knowing that a scared person could do drastic things without thinking, he switched to his x-ray vision, hoping to see her skeleton in the bushes or a clump of nearby trees. Looking around, he saw nothing, but noticed something on the ground. Switching back to his normal vision, he walked over, and picked it up off the ground. Clark realized it was the sweatshirt he had seen her wearing, torn all the way down the back; the fabric stressed as if it had been pulled to its limit and had torn at the pressure. Scanning the area once again, this time looking for a potential kidnapper, he still saw nothing, not even a stray book or piece of fallen paper. Confused, and absent-mindedly still holding the torn sweatshirt, he made his way back inside.

* * *

"Does he know about your wings?" Andy's mother, Ellen, asked her once her daughter had finished reciting the events of the morning. Ellen had come to accept Andy's irregularity when she had discovered her three year old was sprouting wings from her shoulder blades, and over time had become overprotective. She continued her strife to protect her daughter from any potential threat, even when they discovered not only did Andy have wings, she too had talons, which she had accidentally discovered one day when her mother had startled her. Luckily, no-one had been hurt, but Ellen could only imagine the horrible things scientists would do to her only heir if they discovered her secret.

"I don't think so, but he's starting to get curious; I mean, it's hard to have wings and not be the least bit inconspicuous about it. Anyway, I think he wants to escort me around the school, like it's his job or something…" Andy said.

"Well, I'm just glad you came home when you did—no more school for you," Ellen said, obviously thinking she had the upper hand this time and had concluded the discussion.

"No, mom, I want to try to go to school, I just have to be careful," she assured her mother. The argument to let her go to school had only been successful because Andy had mentioned her social life, or lack thereof.

"Andy, what if someone _does _find out? Do you know what they could do to you?"

"I know mom, that's why I have stayed hidden for 14 years of my life! I've lived in a prison for as long as I can remember and I want to be free!"

Ellen shook her head, recognizing where this conversation was leading. "Andy, you know why I kept you here, it was for your own good, and you've got to understand that!"

"Yeah, that's what you've told me time after time, but you don't understand what it's like. I'm a prisoner in my own home—I can't go to movies or to dinner, or anywhere. I don't have any friends except for you! This is my chance to get out into the real world. Maybe if I did reveal my wings to everyone, they'd realize how special I am and perhaps accept me; I saw this wall in the office of the school's newspaper—it's covered in articles about people like me, mom, people with strange abilities that they got because of the meteor shower—_freaks!_"

Ellen scooted over on the couch to a placed a comforting arm around her daughter's shoulders, resting just above the wings. "Andy, you're not a freak—you're special. Do you realize how many people can only dream of having what you've already got? You can fly free in the sky when others daydream of doing so. But I don't know about you revealing your secret to anyone—it could be dangerous."

Now it was Andy's turn to sadly shake her head, gazing down at the floor with tears in her eyes. "Can I go back to school tomorrow then? I promise I'll stay away from Clark and Chloe…plus, they don't even know enough about me to recognize me even if I did!" Andy pleaded with her overprotective mother.

"Alright, I guess you can," Andy's mother said as she sighed in defeat. "We'll have to buy you another sweatshirt tomorrow though, in the meantime, just wear your blue one. If anyone asks, say you get cold easily—which is easy to believe because of your size."

"Thanks mom!" Andy said gleefully before running from the room, her wings flaring out behind her. Reaching her own room in a matter of seconds, she closed the door and the shades on the windows and let her wings free from the blanket her mother had draped over them as soon as she had entered the house with her wings exposed. She lay on her stomach sprawled on the bed, lazily flapping her wings, doing the English homework that was assigned at the end of her only class that day. She had only told her mother she'd stay away from Clark and Chloe to convince her to let Andy return to school—she knew she wouldn't keep her promise; after all, Clark and Chloe had been the only two students who had even acknowledged her. She knew she would have to explain her disappearance the next day, but she could easily get away with being sick and having to go home for the day.

* * *

Chloe and Pete were both looking intently at one of the computer screens in the Torch Office when Clark walked in a few minutes after the 3rd period had ended.

"Hi Chloe, hey Pete," Clark said, breaking their intense gaze at the computer. "Another contender for the Wall of Weird?" he asked, walking over and sitting down in a nearby computer chair. At their confused faces, he continued, "What's with the hypnotic gaze into the face of technology?"

"Oh, Clark, no, actually I found a match for the license plate number you gave me," Chloe said. "A red 2003 Mustang Convertible. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, that was the car I saw go off the bridge the other night. Did it say who it belonged to?" he asked, determined to find out who owned the vehicle.

"Ellen McKenzie," Pete answered for him. "Now, all we need to find out is if our mysterious winged one is also a McKenzie…"

"But how are we supposed to do that? We don't even know who she is, or even if they're related…" Clark said, becoming more perplexed.

"Just another one of the clues, Clark. Part of solving the mystery," said Chloe.

"Well, I have another clue to add," Clark said, as he tossed the ripped sweatshirt onto the desk in front of him.

"Clark, we all know your wardrobe is, and always will be a mystery, but why admit to it now?" Chloe said, teasing him as she picked up the item of clothing and inspected it, instantly noticing the huge tear down the back with a journalist's eye.

"Chloe, this isn't mine, its Andy's—I think. I saw her leaving the school a minute ago, and when I followed her, she was gone—just like that. I found this out near a clump of trees by the school. The odd thing is, it's almost torn identically to the way that the sweatshirt I found in the car was," Clark said as he shrugged, adding what he suspected was more than just a little important clue to their puzzlement.

"So, you think it's Andy who's the winged wonder?" Pete asked.

"Well, the fabric is pretty tough to be ripped clean through like this, and I've just noticed she acts a little strange…" Clark commented.

"How so?" Chloe asked, beginning to wind the different pieces into the situation.

"I dunno, she just wears a sweatshirt that could fit me, and never seems to be anywhere without her backpack—though she carries all of her books. Plus, she seems to hunch over a bit, but her backpack is empty…"

"Did it ever occur to you that she could just be inordinately self-conscious? I know a lot of people who are…plus she's new here, it must be scary with the magnitude of kids that go here, not to mention all of the Wall-Of-Weird contenders that have been disguised as another crow in the group…"

"Maybe, I just don't know. Her last name's Falcon though, and the owner's of the car is McKenzie; it could just be a weird coincidence," said Clark, then remembering Lex's wise words: coincidence is a word used only by fools and liars. "I'll have to look into it more, but right now, I have to get to class. I'll see you guys later."


	5. Fugitive

**Chapter 4  
****Fugitive**

The young man had a plan; one he knew would either work or be a complete mistake. Always being one to take chances, at approximately 10 P.M. he would arrange his long-toiled-over dummy in the cell bed so that it appeared he was sleeping soundly as if nothing had happened. Then he would go around a corner in the main room and wait until the night lay upon the Belle Reeve Asylum. Once the guards were checking the cell rooms, he would make his move—a daring attempt to escape. He had the most precious of his belongings, including his sharp shooting gun which he had repossessed from the locked room where firearms and other weapons that came in with the inhabitants of the asylum were kept after locking up. He also had a backpack full of clothes and his most important possession—meteor rocks which made up the majority of the mail he had received lately. He had ordered them over the internet during the small amount of free-rime he had between workouts and the scheduled time to take medications, which he had faked taking for the last month.

He knew the cops were familiar with his method of signature for each of his murders—a small meteor rock labeled "freak," placed next to the body. He decided a new signifying mark was necessary so that the police wouldn't recognize his handiwork: the removal of all meteor freaks. Now, he decided, he would use meteor rock bullets, which he had used once before to kill Clark Kent. He had seen Clark was bullet-proof, but later found out that he was immediately weakened when he was near the meteor rocks. He had devised an earlier plan and had made meteor rock bullets to shoot the invincible Clark Kent.

When he had successfully shot Clark and had then gone after Lana, he had been sure his plan had worked and that Clark had died, but he soon found out that his scheme had a fault—Clark had survived the shot and had come to Lana's rescue. Together, they had taken him out, which is why he was now in the asylum for becoming so intent on making the "race" of meteor rock affected people extinct. He had only been this way since his own father, Lt. McNulty had been killed by one. A girl his age named Tina, who could morph into whoever she wanted, had killed his father when he had been one of the officers assigned to capture her and take her to the nearest asylum—most likely his own prison like asylum, Belle Reeve.

The man went to his hiding spot and waited for what seemed like an eternity, when finally, the guards left the room. He knew he didn't have much time, and went through his plan quickly. Once he was outside, he took out a pair of wire clippers he had taken from the weaponry and began to cut through the chain link fence. The alarm had sounded when he had exited the building, and the adrenaline was fueling him to work faster.

Finally, he was through the fence and running, running, running. He heard officers and the guards rushing out through doors all around the building, communicating with walkie-talkies and shouting orders to each other, and the man knew he wasn't home free just yet. He kept running and then doubled back into a clump of trees which he hoped provided enough cover to hide him. The officers ran past, oblivious to his presence, following the tracks which led to a small stream, where they got confused and proceeded to wade through and continue on their trek—fighting a losing battle. The man ran off into the woods near the Morley Reservoir when he took out his laptop to begin his search anew.

* * *

Later that night, Chloe sat in the Torch Office, trying to find a more current informative site on Ellen McKenzie. She scanned the list on the search page, all of the sites now in a purple text, indicating they had all been viewed before. Tired and frustrated, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes with a sigh. A pop-up appeared on the computer screen with a small ding, informing her she had one new e-mail from someone only known as –Determined. Curious, she maximized her e-mail inbox and looked at her latest e-mail, the subject reading, "Winged Wonder Article." The journalist in her motivated Chloe to open the e-mail and read on, too curious to let it slide. It read,

"I have recently read your article titled 'Winged Wonder: Smallville's Newest Hero?' and have some information for you: I can provide you with more updated information on any topic of interest to you regarding this article, if you can give me all the information you have discovered about the Winged Wonder.

–Determined."

As soon as Chloe had read the e-mail, a sudden "blink!" from her computer brought up an IM box with –Determined as the sender. Odd, Chloe thought; her IM hadn't been open at the time, and she didn't recognize the address as one of her favorites, but she was too interested to not reply. The first IM from –Determined read "Do you accept my offer?"

"How can I trust you?" Chloe typed back, as she attempted to determine the e-mail address of –Determined. When she tried however, it informed her that the address was not available. Even with her highly advanced hacking skills, she couldn't bring up the address, and finally gave up.

"I can give you the most recent information on anything you need and help you figure out who the Winged Wonder is," –Determined replied almost instantly afterwards.

"Prove it," Chloe now typed, becoming more suspicious and inquisitive at the same time.

"I know of the car that went off of the bridge had the license plate number QKU 491, Kansas," appeared on the screen. Chloe blinked in surprise. –Determined could turn out to be more intelligent than she thought, as they had correctly identified the plate number of the Mustang Clark had seen crash the other night.

She continued to IM the mysterious person: "Who are you?"

"That is not important. All you need to know about me is that I can crack codes on almost any computer and I can easily find information that others cannot. Now it's your turn: What information have you discovered so far about the Winged Wonder that was not been displayed in the Torch?"

Chloe hesitated only a moment before replying, "The owner of the vehicle is named Ellen McKenzie from Smallville." She felt as if she were stalking Ellen, but knew that the person could have easily figured out the same information on their own, but most likely wanted to know if Chloe was worth the effort. Even so, she left out the information about Andy, just in case. At first, there was no reply, and Chloe began to think that she'd gone too far with the amount of information that she had provided for –Determined. Then another message came up; it was a website address.

Chloe clicked on it, and it came up with a newer document with information about Ellen, only this Ellen's last name was Falcon. Chloe maximized the previous document of Ellen McKenzie and compared the pictures—identical. Even though one document was newer, the author failed to provide a current photo, which must have been done after Ellen had married. Chloe's intake of breath was sharp—this meant that Ellen must be Andy's mother! If that was true, then Andy must be the Winged Wonder, didn't it? But Falcon was a common name. Luckily, –Determined didn't know about Andy…yet.

* * *

That night, Clark's parents asked him if he found out anything more about the winged wonder and the car. Feeling oddly protective of the mysterious person, Clark lied, saying he didn't know anything more. Lying had become second nature to him, having to do it constantly to protect his secret. Still, he was a terrible liar, and his parents could tell something was going on.

"Clark, are you alright? You seem worried about something," Martha asked her son, already convinced there was something he wasn't telling her.

"I'm fine mom, I'm just gonna go to the loft," Clark said, not wanting to lie any more than he needed to.

* * *

The next morning, Clark woke up and stretched in the early morning light. He had to get up early today and do his chores before school, which he planned to leave for earlier than usual today to continue his search to discover who the mysterious winged wonder was. Hopefully Chloe had figured something out last night when she was at the Torch office, he thought as he groggily got up out of bed and dressed while he was still half-awake. He stumbled out of his bedroom to the bathroom, and finally out into the fresh morning air to feed the cows and bail hay. When he was finished, he made his way back inside, now fully awake and with an empty stomach.

"Good morning, Clark, you're up early this morning," Jonathan greeted his son as he walked into the kitchen from the back door.

"I just wanted to do my chores early so that I can help Chloe at the Torch before school," Clark said, walking over to the refrigerator and pulling out the milk. His mother sat at the kitchen table with his father,

"Uh, uh, Clark, use a glass," she said suddenly, causing Clark to lower the raised milk carton from his lips with a small smirk. He opened a nearby cupboard and took out a tall glass, pouring himself a generous amount of milk. He then opened another one and took out a box of cereal, adding more milk to his breakfast. Greedily eating his meal, he looked at the clock; 7:14.

"Whoa, I've got to get going; Chloe's expecting me at 7:15," he said, dumping the rest of the cereal down the sink and grabbing his backpack.

"Have a good day," Martha told her son. With a small wave, he super-sped out the door to the school, arriving with only 10 seconds to spare. He jogged into the hallway, and finally slowing to arrive right at 7:15 in the doorway of the Torch Office.

"So, any new news on the latest Wall-Of-Weird contender?" Clark asked when he saw Chloe was already there.

"Actually, there's a huge part to our mystery that I solved last night—the site I looked at was over 17 years old, but I couldn't find a more recent one. Then last night, when I was, uh, _searching,_ I found another one that was from '99: apparently Ellen used to be married to someone called Charlie Falcon. Unfortunately, Falcon seems to be a popular name, so we have no idea if Ellen and Andy are even related, though it seems that would be the case…it also said Ellen was born and raised in Smallville, and continues to work here today as a photographer," she said, clearly intrigued herself by the whole concept.

"But didn't you tell me that Andy said she was new here?" Clark asked.

"I checked Andy's school file, and it says she's from Metropolis. Maybe she skimped on the papers and was actually home schooled up till now in Smallville, but the question is, _why?" _Chloe said, excited to be solving yet another one of Smallville's mysteries. Clark looked at her critically, only slightly surprised that she didn't mind the privacy laws of looking through other people's files—something he found very intriguing about Chloe; intent on solving any mystery no matter what costs. "I guess we'll just have to get the information from the source… By the way, I had a friend of mine inspect that sweatshirt you left here yesterday? He said nothing could have done that in that amount of time without some sort of machine, unless Andy's a lot stronger than we think. Who'd know with the clothes she wears…"

"Uh, Chloe, could I have that sweatshirt back?" Clark asked suddenly, an idea coming to him.

"Sure, I didn't know it was that important to you," Chloe said speculatively. "Why?"

"I just got an idea, I'll see you later," said Clark, as he practically ran out the door.


	6. Shot of Death

**Chapter 5  
****Shot of Death **

The bell rang right as Clark left the office, and he flinched as he realized his plan would have to be postponed until after school, which seemed like a day away. He reluctantly walked to English, all the while passing notes to Pete, explaining what he and Chloe had discovered earlier.

* * *

Chloe sat at her computer thinking about what had happened last night. With nothing to do at the moment, she logged onto the internet to play some games until the period ended and she had to go to class. As soon as she had clicked on the icon however, the IM box popped up with a "blink," startling her. It was –Determined.

"Any new news about the winged wonder situation?" –Determined wrote.

"There is one thing—a new student at the high school could be connected to the story—her name is Andy Falcon," Chloe typed back, more at ease this time when she was IMing the mysterious person. She had decided telling –Determined about Andy wasn't too much of a crime; whoever it was probably could have recovered the information themselves if they had so desired.

"Falcon is a common name. Is it proven yet if Ellen and Andy are related?"

"Not yet. I'm going to have a friend of mine approach the source today and ask who her mother is. By this afternoon, we should know if she's our winged wonder or not…" replied Chloe.

"Is there anything peculiar about her?"

"Yes, she wears a large sweatshirt despite the warm weather, and carries an empty backpack over both shoulders at all times," Chloe replied, not sure what answer she was going to get.

"I have my suspicions…" –Determined wrote back.

"Also, yesterday, my friend found Andy's sweatshirt outside the school only moments after she had ran out…" No reply, so Chloe continued: "It was ripped all the way down the back. No sign of a struggle though," Chloe said. She waited for a reply, but the icon above the IM box said that –Determined had signed off. Chloe began to wonder if she had told them too much…

* * *

Van McNulty closed his laptop and looked around his camp. It was in the middle the woods on the edge of the Morley reservoir, a place where no-one would think to search for days. His equipment was set up just as he needed as he began to make a pile of green bullets—meteor rocks. He began his plan of attack for the night—find out just exactly where the meteor freak of his interest lived, and destroy her. The plan seemed foolproof—after all, this one was only a girl. What could go wrong?

* * *

Lana didn't want to admit it, but she had been avoiding Clark for the past 2 days. She had been so confused and yet so mystified when she had discovered they were floating at Clark's barn the other day, that she didn't know what she would say to him the next time they met. She knew that she had been fooling herself the day she had told Clark that he didn't need to confess to her. She so desperately wanted to know what mysterious thing had happened between them that day, but didn't want to confront Clark about it. He had said it was dangerous, and that there were things about him that she wouldn't understand—Lana convinced herself that she could handle the truth, whatever it was, she just didn't know if Clark could…

* * *

Once the day had finally ended, Clark started searching for Andy again, hoping his first impression hadn't been too traumatic for the girl. He saw her at her locker, grabbing the rest of her books and tucking them under her arm, empty backpack still covering her back. Clark needed to know if his suspicions were correct, and with a sigh that was none-too-confidant, he briskly walked up to Andy so that she didn't have an escape route.

"Hi Andy, it's me, Clark; remember, the one you practically killed yourself trying to get away from yesterday?"

"Oh, hi Clark, I'm sorry about that. I was just, uh, a little preoccupied at the time," she said, and Clark knew there was a piece of the puzzle missing. "Was there anything you wanted?"

"Well, I had just been wanting to be your escort to show you around the school, but it seems you've already gotten the hang of it on your own," he said, putting on his best smile as his Kent Charm made it's way onto his face.

"Well, the school isn't that big. Kinda like the city…" she commented as she began walking towards the entrance to the school with Clark hot on her heels.

"I heard you're from Metropolis. What's it like there?" he asked, secretly digging deeper into the mystery. He knew that if she was who he thought she was, then she had most likely never even been to Metropolis in her life.

"Oh, it's…large. Much bigger than Smallville…" There was definitely too vague to be sufficient. Clark knew that was the best he was going to get out of her, so he quickly changed the subject to the specific information he needed to solve the latest mystery.

"Do you need a ride home? I could give you a lift, I brought my truck this morning…" he said, catching himself as he was just about to mention that he normally ran to school. Andy thought about it for a moment before deciding it might be too obvious if she just took off herself, with no bike or car or any other way of transportation to a house that was miles away.

"Alright, that'd be great," she said, climbing into the red '90's pickup. She situated herself in the seat so that her wings were as comfortable as possible—which wasn't very. As they drove along, she directed him to her house.

"Who do you live with anyway?" Clark suddenly asked her as she described the path to her house.

"My mother. My father died when I was little, in the meteor shower …" Andy said absentmindedly before shrinking back. Now he'd probably ask more questions.

"What was your father's name?" Clark asked, directing the conversation into a trap.

"Charlie Falcon. My mother changed her last name from McKenzie to Falcon when she married, said it was a much more pleasing name, that's why I got it," said Andy. Clark remained silent—knowing he had just solved their mystery, and then realizing that that meant only one thing: Andy was the winged wonder. He suddenly wondered if he too someday would fly like he had seen Andy do a few nights before, but the atmosphere became muted as he dropped Andy off at her house.

"Thanks for the ride," she said quickly, jumping out of the car at an awkward angle—Clark knew it was because of the secret hidden wings.

"Andy! Wait,you forgot something," Clark said suddenly to her. She stopped, and waited, wondering what he was doing now. Clark turned around in his seat, and reached into the back. Andy waited with curious eyes. Clark pulled out a green sweatshirt from his bag in the back.

"I found this yesterday after you took off. What happened?" Clark asked, indicating the long tear down the back. Andy's face went pale; did he know? Quickly snatching the bedraggled item of clothing from Clark, she wordlessly grabbed her backpack and books, slipping the straps over her shoulders—unaware that she needed not for her new friend knew her secret, and jogged to the door. Clark waited until the door had closed, and then switched on his x-ray vision to the level that he could see only through the wall, and still see human figures instead of skeletons. Despite the knowledge of her secret, still he gasped when he saw Andy slipping out of her new sweatshirt to reveal a marvelous duo of auburn feathered wings—each almost 7 feet long by the looks of it, streaming out behind her as she took the stairs three at a time.

* * *

Andy was glad to have a new friend at the school, even if he was a potential threat to keeping her secret. She had never had a real friend before, always being cooped up in the house since she was 3 and had begun to sprout wings from her shoulders where meteor rock fragments were imbedded in the skin from the meteor shower the day before. She began to think that if someone had figured out her secret, maybe it wasn't so bad. Clark hadn't reacted like the fictitious people her mother had described; tying her up and hauling her off to Metropolis. She flopped down on her bed, grateful for her wings freedom, and fell asleep.

* * *

A sudden crash awoke Andy suddenly. She was just in the stage between sleep and awakening, and was disoriented when she realized it was dark outside. She heard footsteps running up the stairs, and went to investigate, remembering just in time to pull on her sweatshirt just in case. Her door burst open, and where she expected to see her mother, a man a little older than her appeared with short brown hair and camouflage paint covering his face, a determined look in his eye and a gun in his hands. She suppressed a yelp, and mentally thanked her instincts for covering up her wings only a few seconds before.

The man didn't say a word but instead took aim with his gun, before he was yanked back out of her doorway by an enraged Ellen. Andy, who had been standing stock still in fright, only had a moment to comprehend what was going on in the hallway outside her door, before she heard a shot ring out throughout the house, and her mother slump against the wall to the floor, dead.

* * *

Clark heard a gunshot from his loft with his super-hearing, and immediately Andy came to mind. Not Lana, nor Chloe, or Pete, as it normally would have been, but Andy. He super-sped from his barn to her house, bracing himself for the worst. He used his x-ray vision once again to see into her house, this time searching for a gunman. On the second floor, he spotted 3 skeletons—one was slumped over on the ground, clearly being the one the second skeleton holding the gun had chosen to victimize first. As he watched, the gunman took aim at the third skeleton in the house, which had a pair of wings sprouting from her back—the long bones of the wings resembling bent spears aiming towards the floor. Clark knew it was now or never, or another life would be claimed. He heard two more gunshots as he super-sped through the open door up to the second floor to see 2 bullets flying towards Andy, only inches from hitting her square in the face. Moving at lightning speed, he placed his own invincible body between the bullets and his new friend, not taking the time to notice that the small projectiles were glowing an eerie green as they pierced his body square in the chest. 


	7. The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

**Chapter 6  
The Hunter Becomes the Hunted**

Clark instantly knew that the bullets had been made of kryptonite not only by recognizing the shooter—Van McNulty, but how the bullets had not only struck him, but had gone all the way into his body instead of stopping at his normally impenetrable skin. The realization made its way to his brain as the pain seeped in, and started to cloud his mind. His placed one hand to his chest, feeling the blood starting to flow from the two small protrusions in his shirt. His eyes slowly closed against his will and the world around him faded to black as his legs gave way under him, and he fell back.

Andy caught Clark as he fell backwards. She felt as if she were in a dream, everything slow moving as she lay Clark down on the floor, trying to push the thought out of her mind: she had just witnessed the murder of both her mother and the only person who she could even consider a friend. The grief and emotional pain welled up inside her as she looked at the shooter in the doorway. He too stared at the fallen boy, shocked at how fast his old enemy had been able to intervene. But it didn't matter now—he was dead. Andy pushed her other emotions aside as the anger and revenge made its way into her pained heart—she was going to get her revenge. Van knew his kryptonite bullets were limited, so he turned his attention from Clark to his original target. He raised his gun in his attempt to get rid of the meteor freak which he so despised. She was gone.

* * *

Andy's mind was completely blank as she snuck her way around the man, whose face shone with shock as he gazed down at the now-dead Clark. She had forgotten where she was, what time it was, why she was wherever she was, even who she was. She didn't know why, but all she knew was that she had to kill the man, who was now cautiously walking into the room, clearly searching for his lost target. He searched the ceiling and the corners, even the closet, before he suddenly stopped and seemed to come to a realization before whirling around to face her. He took aim at her once again, but never had the opportunity to take the shot.

Andy unsheathed all 6 of her claws to their full length, and slashed at the shooter. He rammed the gun, his only protection, in front of himself and her claws swept right through it as if it were paper. His face drained of its color in a matter of seconds, and he backed into a wall. Andy's eyes saw nothing more than an enemy. Van knew this was his end; he was going to leave this world, murdered by the one thing that he was so intent on killing himself—a meteor freak. Her face expressionless, Andy put all of her strength into a smooth motion as 3 of her claws stabbed her adversary in the gut, the tips finding air on the other side.

Andy swiftly yanked her claws from the man, dripping with blood. She sheathed her talons, the blood swiped clean from the blades as she retracted them, her knuckles left stained red with the blood that wasn't her own. All at once, her mind came back to her, and she remembered the two other bodies that littered the floor. She looked at the man who stood in front of her, 3 slits in his tight-fitting tank top which was now stained with red. Confused at first, Andy looked more closely—the stab wounds resembled ones of her own. She then remembered advancing upon him, and delivering the final blow without any thoughts of doing so. Van's eyes rolled back into his head and he too, fell dead to the world at Andy's feet.

Andy stood on her bedroom floor, disbelieving of the situation. She, Andy, a shy small-town girl with wings, was a _killer? _No, she thought. It had been in self-defense, hadn't it? Would that still count as murder? She didn't know, and though she tried to deny it, she didn't care at the moment. The man had killed her mother and her only friend, while Andy had simply been wondering what she had done to the man. She didn't even recognize him! Andy had only been able to come out of the house for a few days, she couldn't possibly have done anything to him. As she thought, she realized why the man had come after her—her wings. She couldn't do anything about them, it wasn't her fault they had ruined her life. Being locked in her house for the better part of her life, how could anyone know about the wings? Clark was the only one who had seen them besides her mother. The Torch article! The killer must have seen it, and been some sort of a fanatic, killing any freaks that crossed his path.

White-faced, Andy ran to her mother, all the while knowing her worst fears were confirmed—her mother was dead, never to see the light of day again, all because of her. If she didn't have her wings, the shooter would have never come after her, and her mother wouldn't have sacrificed herself in order to save her daughter. She felt her mother's neck for a pulse, but none was evident. Bursting into much delayed tears, she hugged the body as if it were still alive. She didn't know how long it was that she sat there; it could have been minutes, hours, even days. She only thought of her mother and how she could have cherished her time with her, when all they ever seemed to do was argue about Andy's wings. Damn wings! They had ruined her life, over and over again, finally taking her mother's life. She fell asleep, letting herself forget the horrible, unforgettable events of the day.

* * *

Andy awoke suddenly to a horrible stench. She was sitting next to her mother, now only a lifeless body, but the smell was so strong, she stood and backed up. She glanced into her room, noticing the bright light shone through the poor excuse for a shade. Her gaze traveled lower and her breath caught in her throat: Clark lay on the floor, surrounded in blood. Andy instantly looked away, knowing he was dead. She couldn't believe it, so she looked one more time, and noticed his chest slightly rise and fall slowly, his eyes shut as he lay unconscious on her bedroom floor. She knew no-one could take two bullets to the chest at point blank and live, but here he was, only unconscious. She had to get him back to his home, but didn't know where it was. She racked her brain for any sign of a hint—hadn't she heard someone say he lived on a farm? She and her mother, though it pained her to the core to think about it, had flown over a farm the night they crashed the car.

Andy slowly walked over to Clark, hoping she wasn't dreaming. She watched for a few seconds, he was definitely breathing. Taking a deep breath that made her instantly gag at the smell, she knew what she had to do. She was grateful for all the time she had spent working out in her basement gym for the first 5 years she had wings so that one day, she could fly. She had maintained a weight that bordered too-thin, but made sure she was always strong enough with her diet. In the last few years, all her hard work and self-motivation had finally paid off and she had flown for the first time.

Andy slipped her hands under Clark's arms, and attempted to lift his body. Her strained attempts were to no avail as she knew she just wasn't strong enough to carry Clark, big muscles or not. Instead, she gathered up a handful of Clark's blood soaked shirt and began to drag him towards the doorway—she would never feel the same about her house, especially her bedroom, again. It took her the better part of 20 minutes to even get him to the flight of stairs, delicately making her way past the stinking corpses. She navigated the staircase next, holding back the empty bowels of her stomach as Clark's unconscious body tumbled down them, knocking her down. With only heartbreak fueling her, it took much of her determination to rise again, and begin to drag her friend the last few feet to the front door, left open by Van.

Finally, Andy had made it and hauled Clark out onto the porch. For once in her life, she didn't care if anyone saw her, she was going to have to fly Clark to his farm to let his parents take a look at the condition of the farm-boy and decide what to do. Out onto the grass she went, her arms straining with the effort. Not releasing her grasp on Clark's shirt, she brought her wings to life, straining them for a second before her sweatshirt ripped down the middle and her magnificent wings unfurled in the sunlight. With great strokes of her wings, she slowly took to the air, desperately trying to hold onto the body whose weight outdid hers by more than twice. She strained to keep them off the ground—this was even harder than when she had to hold her mother in the same fashion after the accident! Even so, she began to rise, and scanned the area for the long fields and small barn and house that she assumed was the Kent Farm. As she spotted it, she began to fly towards her target: the small yellow house near the barn, where she hoped to find Clark's parents.

* * *

Martha and Jonathan were in the kitchen that morning, completely oblivious to what had happened to their son. The gunshots were too distant for their normal range of hearing, and both of them thought Clark was just running a little late, as usual, and planned to wake him in a few minutes. Jonathan switched on the T.V. and the news blared a new warning to all the residents of Smallville: the supposed mentally instable Van McNulty, murderer to all those who had been affected by the meteor shower, had escaped from the Belle Reeve Asylum the night before last, and everyone was warned to be on the lookout, but not to approach McNulty under any circumstances.

"Isn't that the man who shot Clark before he was taken there?" Martha asked her husband.

"Yes, I'm afraid we're going to have to be extra careful until they find him again. I don't want Clark to be on his hit list for the second time…" Jonathan said. "Where is he anyway? Clark! Time to get up, you're going to be late!" he yelled up the stairs. No sound came from the second floor.

"I'll go get him," Martha said, as she went upstairs to more gently wake up their son. As she opened the door, she immediately noticed that the bed was empty, and appeared to have not been slept in. Worry filled her, and as she turned around to run downstairs to check the loft, hoping he was there, she saw something out the window. Just coming into view there was an awkwardly flying bird, carrying something rather large with it, flying directly towards the house. She looked more carefully at the creature, feeling oddly curious as it came closer. Her heart felt as if it had made its way into her throat as she realized that the "bird" was a young girl about Clark's age, and the thing she was carrying was Clark's bloodly body—either dead or unconscious, she hoped it was the latter.

"JONATHAN!" Martha screamed down the stairs from her son's bedroom, her voice shaking with fright and on the verge of tears. She heard him scrambling to climb the stairs as quickly as possible. He was in the doorway in a matter of seconds.

"Martha! What is it? Where's Clark?" he asked, wondering what had upset her so suddenly. Martha pointed out the window as the girl landed in the yard and stumbled a few feet. She then layClark down on the ground, and ran to the front door out of their range of view. Jonathan, though in shock himself, automatically ran downstairs to let in the girl—or what he assumed was a girl.

"Are you Mr. Kent?" she asked, hoping she had assumed right for Clark's life depended on it. Jonathan Kent pushed past Andy without a word, wings and all, dropping to his knees near his son's lifeless and blood soaked body. Martha was close on his heels, her eyes already streaming tears. For both of them, the feeling of deja vu was too familiar.

"What happened?" Jonathan finally said after coming to grips with himself, though he didn't know who exactly the winged girl was.

"He was shot…two times in the chest…" Andy said slowly. Martha and Jonathan knew instantly that the bullets couldn't have been normal—then Clark wouldn't even have bruised, yet here he was, bleeding to death on their front lawn.

"Did the bullets look like they were…glowing green to you?" Jonathan asked the girl. She thought for a moment, and then decided;

"Yes. One of them also killed my mother, but when Clark came, the shot began to glow. Why?" she asked, recalling the painful memory of seeing her mother dead. She got no reply, but the Kents seemed to suddenly understand what was going on, though they should have before: their son had been shot, that wasn't difficult to see. "We should get him to a hospital."

"Uh, no, Andy?" Martha asked gently, remembering her son saying something about the new student.

"Yeah, that's my name," she said.

"Andy, we can't take him to a hospital. We'll take care of him here," she said.

"But he's been shot! He needs medical help!" she said desperately. Couldn't they notice a doctor was needed in this kind of situation?

"No Andy, we'll just take him inside," she said, as Jonathan looped Clark's limp arms with his own and dragged his son up the porch steps, and in through the door which his wife held open for them. Andy could only watch in horror as the couple left her standing outside, wondering why they wouldn't take their dying son to the hospital like any normal parents. Martha had seemed stern in her decision, so Andy let it go. Maybe one of them was a doctor? Not likely, since they lived on a farm, Andy thought.

* * *

Please review! I need at least 3 before the next chapter is posted. Both positive and negative comments are welcome! Hope you liked it! 


	8. Operation Clark

**Chapter 7  
Operation Clark**

Andy let herself in, unbeknownst to the two worried parents who were at the couch where Jonathan had laid Clark, and was now applying pressure to the still badly bleeding wounds.

"Martha, you and Andy go get something to stop the bleeding," he said, not looking away from his son's face as he talked. "Oh Clark, how do get yourself into these kinds of things?" he mournfully asked his unconscious son. No-one answered his question, and Jonathan sadly looked at Clark's face which somehow appeared tranquil despite the agony he had gone through. Silently whispering an apology in advance, he yanked open Clark's plaid button-up shirt, jerking the now-weak and helpless body momentarily. Andy and Martha ran into the kitchen, and Martha handed her some rags, which she ran back to Jonathan with.

"Here," she said, handing them to him. He grabbed them roughly and covered Clark's now bare chest with them, the gaping bullet wounds obscured by the amount of blood that made Andy nauseated.

"Martha! Could you get the pliers and clean them for me?" he asked, an idea growing in his mind. He knew he had to remove the kryptonite bullets before they killed his son, which he knew they were doing at that very moment. As he talked, he felt Clark's chest stop moving. His eyes widened in shock, as he knew he might lose his son forever, lying peacefully on their living room couch while the rest of them ran about in turmoil.

"He's not breathing!" he said aloud. Jonathan began CPR on the boy, as all thoughts of the bullets suddenly disappeared. With each push on his son's chest, came a gush of new blood from the bullet wounds. "C'mon Clark, _breathe!_" After a few tense seconds of pure fear flooded him, he felt the normal rise and fall of the diaphragm again, letting loose a loud whoosh of breath himself, noticing he had been holding his own. Martha ran in with the pliers, handing them to him. His stomach flopped when he took them, knowing he was going to have to again perform surgery on his own son.

Jonathan inspected the bullet wounds, grateful when he saw the glowing green from the two holes. He knew the bullets must have gone deep into Clark's body, as he took a breath and began to dig deeper into the penetrations. He felt the pliers touch something hard, and grabbed on, slowly and carefully pulling out the blazing green bullet. As he did so, Clark's skin twitched, and he opened his eyes quickly.

"Clark! Please, stay still, I need to get the other bullet out," Jonathan said to his now-conscious son.

"Dad?" Clark said weakly.

"Yes, Clark, I'm here," he said soothingly.

"Dad, Andy…is she OK? Her mother was…shot…by Van," he said, grimacing from the pain in his chest, pausing for a quick breath in between words, each one more painful than the last.

"Andy's here, Clark, she's fine. Did you say it was Van who shot you?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah, he must have...escaped from the asylum…dad, it hurts so bad…" he said, lifting a pale hand to touch his agonizing wounds. Jonathan caught his hand and placed it back by his side.

"Just stay still son, I'll have the other bullet out in a minute. It's going to hurt a ton though, I'm sorry Clark," he apologized.

"I'm…ready," Clark managed to say as he lay his head back on the armrest of the couch and clenched his teeth, expecting the pain that he was so unaccustomed to.

Jonathan placed the pliers into the next wound to search for the second bullet. He felt Clark's rock hard muscles tighten against the pain, and looked over at his son's pained face. Guilt overwhelming him, he continued to look for the bullet; apparently it had gone deeper than the first. The pliers found the deadly object, and he grabbed it and began to pull it out.

Trying his best, Clark thought back to the situation that had happened in Andy's home the night before. As his mind continued to wander, keeping his concentration off of the immense amount of pain, he realized that if he had been thinking straight at the time, he could have knocked Andy's bodydown to the floor instead of subjecting his own. Now he was paying for his deadly mistake. His thoughts were interrupted as pain shot through his entire body.

A second later, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from Clark as his torn skin was widened as the pliers were pulled from the wound. Try as he might, he could not stay silent as the pain enveloped his entire body. He weakly tried to push away the source of his pain, forgetting it was his father in his attempt, his vision blurred from the anguish that wracked through his body. Though weakened by kryptonite, Clark lashed out suddenly, and the slight blow knocked his father over, who still gripped the pliers. As he fell back, the bullet was pulled completely from Clark's wounded chest, and the fatal poison was finally gone. Jonathan sat up onto his heels, holding back the vomit that threatened to make its way up his throat. He handed the bullets to his wife,

"Take these and put them in the lead box," he told her, though he knew she already knew what to do with the fatal kryptonite. He turned back to his son, whose eyes were cracked open slightly.

"Clark, it's fine, it's over. I'm so sorry son, I had to remove the bullets—they were killing you…"

Clark could only whimper slightly before passing out once more. Jonathan wiped the sweat from his forehead withthe sleeve of his flannel farmer's shirt; he could barely believe what had happened. This was the third time he had to save his son from a situation similar to this. What had Clark done to deserve such punishment, Jonathan didn't know. Clark had been fighting his destiny—becoming ruler of the human race, ever since he had met his biological father. Instead, he had devoted his whole being intoacting asSmallville's hero: using his powers to save others from situations a mortal could not. What Clark deserved was a break from his own life, not being shot with kryptonite bullets.

Martha too was thinking. None of this made sense; no matter what good Clark does, he is always rewarded with more victims to save, sometimes almost dying in the process. Still, he continued to act as a one man army, saving anyone and everyone who needed help, no matter the cost. She and Jonathan had to be the heroes for the hero whether he needed someone to perform surgery and remove the toxic meteor rocks to simply talking about his continually complicated life. Clark was the last one who deserved such pain and torment, both emotionally and physically.

Andy watched the entire process, all the while hoping she wasn't going to lose her only friend along with her mother. As she watched, the bullet wounds started to heal. In a matter of seconds, Clark's skin looked as if it were never scratched, except for the blood that Jonathan wiped away with a cloth. Andy couldn't believe her eyes—maybe she wasn't the only one who had special abilities around Smallville. The ones that hadn't been wiped out by Van, or advertised on the Wall-Of-Weird, that is.

"Mr. Kent? W-what just happened?" she asked tentatively as she saw that the instantaneous healing of Clark hadn't surprised him in the least. He whirled around, obviously having forgotten that someone else was around.

"Andy, uh, I think that's up to Clark to tell you…" he said, turning back to his son who was now sleeping soundly, finally free of the torturous pain.


	9. Accomplice or Victim?

**Chapter 8  
****Accomplice or Victim?**

Clark woke up suddenly, sitting straight up with a gasp. He was lying on the living room couch, and his mother was asleep in a rocker next to the armrest where his head had been laid, his father was leaning back against the couch near his chest, also asleep. It appeared that they had been there for quite a while, which confused him as he last remembered being in Andy's house. His movement awoke his dad, who placed a hand on Martha's nearby knee and awoke her as well.

"Clark! How do you feel?" his mother asked him, elated that he was finally conscious again.

"A little woozy," he admitted, his parents smiled their approval. "Where's Andy?"

"She's upstairs. Clark, do you know what happened? Andy wouldn't tell us the whole story," Martha said, as Jonathan just sat there looking relieved that his son had been saved yet again.

"Well, I was in the loft just listening to the stream with my super-hearing; I find it's really calming, when I heard a gunshot. For some reason, Andy immediately came to mind, I guess it's because of her w—…never mind," he said quickly, not ready to expose Andy's secret yet.

"Clark we know about Andy's wings, she flew you here this morning," Jonathan was finally about to talk again. As he said so, Clark's eyes widened.

"She _flew _me here? What about Van? How'd she get away?"

"We don't know, we were hoping you would," Jonathan said. His eyes darted towards the stairs where he saw movement—Andy was listening. "Andy, could you come down here for a minute, please?" he called, and Andy knew she'd been discovered. Dang wings, she thought, she'd be much more inconspicuous without them. Even so, she made her way into the living room and sat down at the end of the couch by Clark's feet, her wings still exposed without a sweatshirt concealing them. Did she just hear Clark say, _"super-hearing?"_

"Yes?" she asked, knowing exactly what they were going to say.

"Andy, I know this is hard for you, but do you know what happened to Van after he…shot Clark," Martha asked the girl.

"Yes," Andy said again, trying to stall.

"What?" all three Kents asked at the same time.

"He's…dead," she said slowly, staring down at the floor. This comment was received by three gasps from the small family sitting before her.

"Andy… how?" Clark asked, not believing what he had just heard.

"I…stabbed him," she said, even more quietly, her voice fading as she said it.

"Well you don't have just some knife lying around your room do you? How did you catch him off guard?" Clark asked, not sure if he was relieved or not. After all, this was the third time Van had come after him with the Kryptonite bullets. Though Van had been a long time enemy of his, the thought of killing him was non-existent when it came to Clark—he wasn't a murderer. Andy simply stood up, and backed slightly. "No, you don't need to tell me, it's OK," Clark said suddenly, hoping he didn't frighten her off with his question. Even if she did kill Van, she still was shy.

As he said this, Andy had brought her fists up to her shoulders, crossing them. Then, with one swift movement, she uncrossed them, bringing them down at her sides as a sharp "zing!" rang through the air. From between each of her fingers, there was a long, thick talon, each sharp as a knife and almost 8 inches long, 6 total. Startled, Martha and Jonathan both jumped slightly, but Clark was accustomed to sights such as this, knowing the knives couldn't hurt him unless they were from his home planet, Krypton.

"Wow, uh, how did you get those?" Clark asked, already knowing the answer after his accidental witness of the car accident.

"Same way as I got my wings—the meteor shower," she replied curtly. Clark felt a surge of guilt, knowing it was his fault she was mutated in this way. "Now it's your turn though, I saw you heal. Did you get your abilities from the meteor shower too?" she asked. Clark realized his secret was out and there was no way of hiding it this time.

"Actually, I caused the meteor shower," he said. His parents would normally have protested, knowing it wasn't his fault that the deadly meteors had come with him to earth, but stayed silent this time, letting him explain his own amazing story. Andy was confused.

"You mean you were the one who caused all that? How?" she asked, not sure if she should believe him.

"I came to earth during that day from my home planet, Krypton, along with the meteor rocks. I'm…an alien," he said.

"How can I be sure? Prove it," Andy said. Expecting a bigger reaction, Clark sighed.

"I'll be right back," he said, getting up from the couch and using his super-speed to run upstairs and grab a clean shirt—all in a matter of one second flat, and sat back down, buttoning up his shirt.

"Wait, where'd that come from?" Andy asked.

"Upstairs," he simply replied, grinning to himself.

"You just ran upstairs?" she asked. He nodded. "Oh, now I get it, you have powers… what else can you do?" she asked again.

"Well, follow me and I'll show you," he said, walking into the kitchen. Andy and his parents followed behind him, all curious as to what he was going to do. He opened the knife drawer and turned around, facing them. With a mischievous grin on his face, he took out a knife and slit his hand. Andy watched in horror—what was his next power; _self-mutilation?_ Mouth agape, she stared at his hand—which wasn't cut. The knife hadn't gone through his skin, though it appeared he had applied pressure to it as he ran it over his palm. She had a hunch, but still was didn't quite understand;

"If you are invulnerable, then why could you get shot?" she asked.

"The bullets were kryptonite," he said. At her confused look, he then added, "That's the real name for the meteor rocks. The green ones cause me physical pain and the red ones….the red ones remove my inhibitions…" She nodded as she understood.

"Also, there's this," he added, grabbing a piece of bread and toasting it with his heat vision. Curious, she took the bread from him, promptly dropped it on the floor as it burned her skin. "My eyes—heat vision," he explained. "I can also see through things, like walls and stuff," he said.

"Wow. This is so cool! Is there anything else?" she asked excitedly, the events of the day temporarily fading away.

"I can hear things that are miles away—that's how I knew your car was at the dam…" he said, then stopping, realizing he was recalling the memory of her mother. He face fell, so to cheer her up, he gently grasped her arm, taking care not to touch her wings, and led her outside. His parents followed once again, knowing he was going to demonstrate his last power to her. He let her and walked over to the truck, and lifted it up over his head. She stood there with her mouth agape once more.

"Super-strength?"

"Yep!" he said, hoping his show would lift her moods again.

* * *

Later that day, the Kent family sat at their kitchen table with Andy, whose wings splayed to the sides as she sat in the wooden chair.

"Andy, you don't have any other relatives?" Martha asked concerningly, feeling sorry for the girl.

"None, other than my mother. I never heard much about my dad, but I was only 3 when he died…in the meteor shower," she added, knowing it was a tender subject around here. Clark's face fell, and she felt guilty, though it wasn't really his fault.

"Well, what do you think about staying with us?" Jonathan asked, surprising everyone. He had just figured that since she knew Clark's secret, there was nothing to hide anymore. Why not adopt another child? Plus, she wasn't exactly normal herself; a normal teen around would feel awfully awkward after living with Clark for 14 years.

"I'd love that!" Andy said, and everyone smiled their approval. Clark finally got his wish: he now had a sister, and someone to talk to when his life became especially rough.

"Well, we'll have to figure it all out, but I'm sure it won't be a problem," Martha said. She too was excited, another woman in the house! Living with the guys had been fun, but now she wanted a little company herself. They all knew about Andy's earlier intentions, but both Martha and Jonathan knew that when it came to the loss of a close friend or family member, one's immediate actions couldn't easily be justified.


	10. The Flight

**Chapter 9  
****The Flight**

Clark sat on the couch in his loft that night, which he now shared with Andy; her room was the guestroom, in the process of being redecorated to her peculiar liking, but like him, she preferred to hang out in the loft. Andy sat perched on the sill of the window where Clark's telescope poked through, her legs dangling into the barn and her wings stuck out for balance.

"So, how did you hide your abilities so well?" she asked. "So far, no-one I've met around here seems to know about them. Except for Pete maybe, you guys are always whispering to each other or taking your conversations to another part of the room. He _must_ know, right?"

"Yeah, Pete knows, but only because he discovered my spaceship when the tornado took it up and put it back into the field. He had no idea—I had to tell him so that our friendship didn't go down the drain..."

"You have a spaceship? You haven't shown me yet! C'mon, let me see!" she said, becoming excited momentarily, but instantly calming down when she saw the reaction on Clark's face. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"The spaceship is gone...I used a kryptonite key to destroy it when it was acting as the spirit of my biological father, Jor-El, who was trying to convince me to overtake the human race and return home. I knew kryptonite would destroy it because whenever it was around kryptonite, it would neutralize it, once saving me when it did so. The blast from the ship overturned my parents truck when they were coming home, and it...killed my mom's baby that she was going to have," Clark explained sadly.

"I'm so sorry," Andy said sympathetically. "So, you didn't come here with any siblings or anything?"

"No, just me. I've always wanted a brother or sister...I guess now I do," he said, grinning at her. She smiled too, she was glad she had a new family. She still grieved for her mother, but she knew that it wouldn't help the situation; her mother was gone. She leaned back to look at the stars, Clark's original home, and then realized she had leaned back too far and was falling through the open window. Instinctively, she let out a small yelp, and Clark's head snapped up from gazing down at his hands on his lap.

"Andy!" he yelled, panicked and rushing to the window, but she was too far to reach by now. He put on his speed, and rushed to the ground, waiting for her to fall safely into his arms. As he stopped below the window, he realized she wasn't falling anymore, but flying into the night air.

"It's OK, I'm fine!" she said. "I've never been the most graceful of people. Maybe that's why I was gifted with these," she said, for once referring to her wings positively. Clark blushed for his overreaction—how could he forget Andy's beautiful wings would save her? She came back to the ground gently, and slight breeze from her open wings drifted down to him.

"Come with me," she said, offering a hand. "It's OK; I'm stronger than you'd think." He tentatively took her hands before she snapped her wings open again, as they rose slowly into the air.

"Wow," Clark breathed. He had always wanted to fly, knowing that one day, that might become true. With every day, he never knew if he would develop another one of his Kryptonian abilities, but he knew one day he would fly; his floating spells had already told him that much, but it was the extent of his experience. They rose higher, and Clark looked down, instantly becoming dizzy—his fear of height was irrational since he couldn't be hurt if he fell anyway, but the thought still lingered in the back of his mind.

"Andy, can we go…lower?" he asked.

"Why? This is not nearly as high as we can go, it's really fun, you'll love it!"

"Actually, I'm not so sure...I'm afraid of heights," Clark admitted to his new sister.

"Now how can the man of steel be afraid of heights?" she asked, giggling at the thought. At his embarrassed demeanor, she began to go lower.

"Andy, _please,_ can we just go down a little bit?" he asked desperately after a few moments, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

"I am down!" she cried. He opened his eyes and gazed back at the ground below. Andy was standing below him on the ground with excitement written all over her face. "You never told me you could fly too!"

"I didn't know I could!" he replied, surprised. He looked around, and tried to rise a little, feeling more at ease doing it on his own. At his own will, he went higher, rising into the cool air with a smile as big as Kansas. Andy rose herself, coming face to face with him, effortlessly flapping her massive wings slowly and methodically, as if it were second nature.

"Let's try out this new ability, shall we?" she asked. "Wanna race?" Clark situated himself in the air so that he was pointed towards the finish: the windmill in Chandler's field. "Are you ready?" she now asked.

"Bring it on," he said. He willed himself forward as Andy started beating her wings fiercely, producing a giant gust of wind that blew Clark off course by a few feet. Gasping for a moment, not used to feeling, he righted himself. Seeing that Andy had already taken off, he couldn't stand to humiliate himself by losing. Clark stuck an arm out in front of him, leaving the other against his side; flying was unbelievable! He tried his speed in the air, and all time stopped. To Andy, all she noticed was a blue and red blur brush past her, but Clark took a second to admire Andy's wings stuck in time as she used them to propel herself forward with as much force as she could. He noticed how powerful they appeared to be: soft over strong. Within an instant, Clark was at the windmill where he sat down at the top and waited for Andy to arrive.

"You're even faster at flying than me, and you've _never_ done it before?" Andy said, reached the windmill a few minutes later, out of breath. Clark shrugged. "I didn't know you could use your speed even when you flew!"

"Swimming, running, flying…I guess I can use it whenever I want," he said. "Hey Andy, what do you like about your wings the most?"

"My wings? I dunno. I guess I like how they're soft over strong." His new sister said, and Clark marveled at how he had thought the exact same thing. It was as if they had always been related! Andy's voice snapped him back to reality again: "Ever since I realized they had grown large enough that I might be able to fly, I've been bodybuilding; I knew that so long as I was really lightweight and muscular, I would be able to fly. With my wings though, I never needed to build them up; they were always strong. Of course, what's the use of wings if you can't use them to fly, right?"

"Just what I was thinking…" Clark said to himself, gazing up into the stars, hoping time would stand still and be perfect forever.

* * *

Lana knew she couldn't take it anymore: she had to see Clark and ask him if he could explain the other morning's events at the barn. She hadn't even bothered to go to the front door to ask where Clark was—the lights in the barn were on and she knew he must be there. She walked to the barn, looking up at the stars and the brilliant moon—so bright and full tonight it seemed to light up the whole sky. She hadn't seen Clark today at school, or Andy either for that matter, who Clark seemed to be hanging out with frequently lately. She then saw something up in the sky—or make that two somethings. They appeared to be rather large birds, flying straight for the barn loft.

As they neared, the light from the loft illuminated them both, and Lana gasped—what appeared to be birds were Clark and Andy. Andy had a gigantic pair of wings which she had been using to fly with, but Clark was free-flying, no wings or anything. Lana shook her head and rubbed her eyes—surely she must be dreaming! She looked again, but there they were, flying straight into the open window of the barn, which she ran into and up the stairs.

Lana reached the top of the stairs to meet the surprised faces of Clark and Andy, whose great wings she immediately furled behind her and tried to make as inconspicuous as possible. No such luck however, they were much too large to be hidden that easily.

"Clark? Andy? Did I just see what I thought I saw, or am I dreaming?" she asked in disbelief.

"Lana, uh, this is going to take some explaining…why don't you sit down," Clark said. He knew that he really didn't have any escape route this time; he was going to have to tell her everything.

"Is this what the floating thing was the other day?" Lana asked him, then realizing Andy was still there and blushed.

"I think there's a different time and place for that," said Clark, his own face red with embarrassment. Andy knew what was going on without them having to say anything. "In the meantime however, I'm going to tell you where I'm from…" he said, realizing this was the second time today he was going to have to recite his story. Lana sat there patiently, knowing he was finally going to open up to her after all these years. "I'm not really from around here…" Clark continued.

"Well, you are adopted. Did you find out where your biological parents live?" she asked. Clark sighed; this was it, now or never. He only hoped she would understand, and not be frightened.

"A planet called Krypton," he said, looking into her eyes as he tried sounding as sincere as possible.

"You're an _alien?_" Lana asked, disbelieving. Then again, some pretty weird things had happened in Smallville since the meteor shower, the most likely time for something as significant as an alien to come to earth. "Are you sure you just weren't _altered_ like a lot of others from the meteor shower? Because if you were, it would be alright…" Andy shifted uncomfortably.

"No, I'm positive. I came to earth during the meteor shower," he explained.

"Whoa, you really are an alien," she said automatically. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that… Clark, how could you keep this from me, from everyone, for so long? You've been lying to us the whole time!"

"The only reason I haven't told you is because it's dangerous. See, I told Pete and he's been the prime target for people trying to get him to reveal my secret," Clark said.

"But no-one has to know that I know," she said.

"It's not that simple," Clark sighed again. "I have these powers that in some situations are necessary for helping others. I always have to cover up what I've done so that no-one will suspect me."

"What kinds of powers?" she asked. Clark was too tired to demonstrate, so he simply told her, hoping she'd believe.

"Super-strength, hearing, and speed, X-ray and heat vision, invincibility unless you count kryptonite—"

"What's kryptonite?" she asked.

"Meteor rocks. They make me feel really sick whenever I'm around them…" he said. Lana made a mental note to never wear her meteor rock necklace again, if she could ever find it. She began remembering all the times Clark had tried to come near her, but instantly fell ill; now she knew why.

"And what about the flying?" she asked. "I've always wanted to fly…"

"I just discovered that one a little while ago. The floating? I guess that's when I'm feeling really strong emotions, like fear and happiness…"

"This explains so much though, like the tornado! Did you fly up to the car? Because I swear you were there, Clark, and you didn't have a scratch on you!"

"I couldn't fly then, and I don't really know what got me to your truck, but the important thing is that you're alive, and safe," he said. Lana turned to Andy, and stared at her gorgeous wings, which Andy had let loose from behind her back.

"No, I'm not an alien if you're wondering," she snapped, noticing Lana was looking at her. "I got these," she said, implying her wings, then unsheathing her talons, receiving a slight jump from Lana, "…and these, from the meteor shower."

"So _you're_ the winged wonder. I'm sure Chloe didn't mean anything personal by that article, I mean, it's kind of her life, the Torch," Lana said, absent-mindedly apologizing for her friend's actions.

"It's OK. I kinda like it, as long as no-one has to know who I really am. Clark's and my secrets are really important…and difficult to keep…" she admitted.

"I know. But I also know now why you didn't tell me," Lana said, turning back to Clark.

"Well, what's done is done. Now, shall we go tell my parents? I'm sure they'll be thrilled to hear that not only does Andy know, but now you know about the family secret as well! Not to mention the flying…" Clark said, grinning with sarcasm. And, with one girl's arm looped around each of his, they marched into the house to confront Clark's parents once again.

* * *

Chloe sat at her computer that night once again, half expecting the still mysterious –Determined to contact her again. She had the awful feeling in her gut that she had given whoever it was too much information about Andy, but when she had tried to visit her that afternoon after not seeing her in school that day, no-one had answered the door. She had visited Clark after that, wondering if he had any information as to where Andy was, and why he hadn't been at school today himself.

When Clark had opened the door, Chloe immediately began hounding him; asking if he was sick or if he just had a rough day and didn't feel up to going to school. He had immediately told her that she was overreacting and that he just didn't feel well and had decided to skip school, something Chloe found surprising with his perfect attendance record, but didn't push the issue. When she had asked if he knew anything about Andy, he had played dumb, acting as if he hadn't a clue. Chloe caught a hint of deceitment in his voice; did he know more than he was telling her? Maybe she'd ask him later about it, but right now, she stared at her computer with only one thought on her mind: Who was

–Determined and what did they want with Andy? Chloe knew she was too stubborn to let the case go cold, but she didn't know that this was a mystery that would go unsolved until Clark and Andy decided to open up and reveal what had really happened that bright but grim Kansas day.


End file.
